


Wash Doesn't Have Nightmares (Redux)

by faraandmera



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Comfort, Nightmares, but its not that bad?, i tagged the original as angst, in the background - Freeform, kind of/, spoilers through season 17, technically everyone is there but not directly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraandmera/pseuds/faraandmera
Summary: Agent Washington doesn't have nightmares.Not that he'd tell you If he did
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Wash Doesn't Have Nightmares (Redux)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [faraandmera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraandmera/pseuds/faraandmera). Log in to view. 



> Re-writes this story 4 years later basically entirely because I don't have the energy to write something new.
> 
> also i wanted to update it bc i actually used to like how i wrote the original

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares. At least he’ll say he doesn’t.

He’s not a child, anymore. Not scared of monsters in his closet, or under his bed. He’s not a child; doesn’t have a mind filled with superstitions made to keep children in line. No ideas about all these terrible things that wont ever happen stuck in his mind.

David doesn’t have nightmares and there are monsters in his friends.

Project Freelancer’s Agent Washington probably has nightmares. Not that he’d say as much, if asked. It’s not as if he’s losing enough sleep to be questioned on it, anyway. Freelancer is a group filled with amazing, strong, _elite_ people. He couldn’t admit it if he did. Doesn’t, though. Doesn’t have nightmares. Doesn’t wake halfway through the night, reaching out for his, “friends.” For people who are fine, and aren’t dying, and wont be gone suddenly.

Project Freelancer’s Agent Washington has nightmares about things that, in the waking world, he imagines will never happen.

Couldn’t happen.

If anyone notices, they don’t say anything. They must not notice, because they would. Because there’s no way they’d let that go.

Freelancer’s Agent Washington has nightmares. Or, no, he doesn’t. He’s certain he’s not asleep. Or he is?

Freelancer’s Agent Washington- that’s his name, he’s sure, definitely- has nightmares because that voice- those memories- wont shut up. There is no voice in his head. (There are a lot of voices in your head.) There’s no one there, they pulled it. Epsilon is in his head. (Epsilon is dead.) Washington his dead. (No, that’s wrong, they’re dead.) His friends are, and he can’t do anything. (Who was it, that died, again?)

Freelancer’s Agent Washington- _churchepsilonalphawashingtondavid-_ has nightmares. The voices and the memories and the _people_. He can’t remember which ones are his.

There’s no one left to notice.

Recovery One doesn’t have nightmares. Doesn’t have nightmares about the people he might have called his _friends_ dying. Of them being killed. Of finding their bodies because he has to, because it’s his job. They aren’t nightmares. The waking world provides him the images itself. One after another as he chases after the Meta. (It’s not Maine. It’s not Maine.) As he find another, and another, of the people he worked with dead at it’s hands. (Maine is dead, too. It’s _not_ him.)

He doesn’t have nightmares. Not of betrayal. Of being shot in the back. Of being left for dead. (She was never your friend.) Doesn’t dream of all the ways he could be dead, by now. Of being left, again. (They were never really your friends.) Doesn’t have to be kept up by nightmares, wondering why he isn’t. Just focuses on his job, on answers, on… anything else. (You’re not crazy.)

Recovery One doesn’t have nightmares. He doesn’t sleep.

Alone again.

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares. He doesn’t dream at all. (Is that better?) Exhaustion from dealing with Caboose, and Church, and the Reds, while hunting the Meta too much to even dream. (It’s not him. It’s not Maine. He’s dead. They’re all dead.) Getting back Delta is too much work. (South _betrayed you-_ and Delta, and _North_ \- and you don’t feel guilty.) It’s impossible to have nightmares, if he never sleeps.

He focuses on getting Epsilon back, getting it to someone who can use the information it has. (Can someone who’s dead have information?) Focuses on how he’s going to break it to Church that he’s the Alpha. Focuses on Managing the simulation troopers.

It’s impossible to have nightmares if he doesn’t dream. (Everything is a nightmare.) Forcing exhaustion is almost better.

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares, or dreams at all. (The quiet is just as unsettling.)

Nobody asks. Nobody knows. Nobody questions.

Prisoner 619-B doesn’t have nightmares. Doesn’t dream that he’ll wake already dying. Doesn’t dream that _the Meta_ will turn on him before they even find Epsilon. Doesn’t dream that he’ll have to fight him. (It. The Meta isn’t him.) Doesn’t dream that he’ll lose, be killed. That Maine will kill him. (Because it’s not Maine. Not a person.) That the Meta will be stronger than he is. (Wasn’t he always?)

Prisoner 619-B has nightmares that the person he would have called, “friend,” is still in there somewhere. That it wont change anything, anyway.

The Meta sure isn’t going to ask. (You didn’t even expect to be alive this long.)

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares. Looking at Epsilon- (No, Church)- doesn’t make him feel sick. (Epsilon is dead. Epsilon killed himself.) Doesn’t dream about memories that aren’t his. About the ones Epsilon gave him. (They’re screaming. Screaming. It’s still happening. Make it stop, make it stop, make it-) He doesn’t dreams about the others dying. That Carolina is dead. (She right here, not dead.)

Agent Washington has nightmares about things that have already happened. To him, to others. (Why are the memories still here?)

They must not know, because there’s no way he’d get away with them if they did. (Could they trust you, if they did?)

Washington doesn’t have nightmares. At least, he can’t remember them. So it’s basically as if he didn’t have them. (Couldn’t have had them.) Doesn’t wake up in the middle of night reaching out for friends that are dead. (Were they your friends?) People he knows died. (You should have noticed.) People he saw die. (You killed them too.) He doesn’t sit up into the early morning, guilt heavy in chest. Doesn’t have time for that. (Church and Carolina need your help.)

Washington doesn’t have nightmares.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. At least he says he doesn’t. (If you can’t remember them, they don’t count.) Neither Caboose or Tucker say anything about it, so it must not happen. (They know you do.) Doesn’t wake reaching for people he can’t save. (They weren’t your friends.) That he couldn’t have saved. (You were always the worst.)

Doesn’t sit on the floor of their base shaking.

If Tucker notices him stumbling through the base at night, he doesn’t say anything. If he hears the muttered names, the fear, he doesn’t say anything. Wont ask, wont talk about it. Knows Wash wouldn’t want to talk about it. (Just like he doesn’t want to talk about Church.)

If Caboose knows, he doesn’t say it. Doesn’t bring up all the times he’s found Wash in the middle of the night. In the base’s "kitchen." Just forms stories that Wash can’t quite follow, and doesn’t ask why he’s there. (They don’t help, but its better than him asking.)

Wash has nightmares, and they all know it. (It’s kind of pathetic, isn’t it?)

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares. Doesn’t dreams that his friends have been taken, that he has to find them. Doesn’t dream that he was tricked by the mercenaries. That he failed his team. Failed them both. Doesn’t dream that he brought a tracker along with them because he wanted to save a friend. (Your team is worse off, because of you.) Doesn’t dream that he gets them all killed. (At least that hasn’t happened, yet.)

Agent Washington doesn’t have nightmares because reality is harsh enough.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. Iris is too peaceful. Mourning too familiar. (It keeps happening, and yet you’re still here.) It’s fine. He doesn’t have nightmares. Why would he? It’s fine. He’s fine. (They’re lucky they’re alive. You’re lucky they’re alive. Your lucky _you’re_ alive.) Just another loss. Another break.

Wash has nightmares, because life continues.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. Can’t sleep. Can’t sleep. Can’t sleep. (You’re going to die, here.)

Wash has nightmares. He’s still awake.

Between himself and Carolina, he thinks it’ll get to him first.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. Or maybe he does. (Bleeding, hallucinating, dying.) Doesn’t have nightmares of losses long over. Of people long gone. Of the fate he keeps avoiding. (Still here. Still not dead.)

Wash doesn’t have nightmares.

Hospitals are a harsh reminder, but he’s alive. If she notices, Carolina will understand, surely. (The others, too. When you see them, when you’re okay.)

Wash has nightmares, probably. Maybe? He thinks he’s dying. He thinks he’s fine. He was shot. He was never shot.

Can’t have nightmares if you don’t sleep.

He was awake, wasn’t he?

Donut doesn’t say anything about it.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. Doesn’t have time to rest. Jumping again, moving again, another conversation, another correction. Doesn’t have nightmares about being lied to. (She should have _told you_.) Doesn’t have nightmares about what has to happen. (Again.) Doesn’t have the chance. Forgiveness happens before he can have nightmare about it. Corrections- before the dying images of those who are still alive can set in- are made.

Wash doesn’t have nightmares because he doesn’t have the time to sleep. (They’re alive.)

(They wanted to save you.)

Wash doesn’t have nightmares. Except that he does. A few repeated months, a few lost memories. A few corrections and too-uncomfortable expressions.

Wash has nightmares because he’s still alive.

David doesn’t have nightmares. Because he’s not a kid, and he abandoned that name when he lost his mind. (You’re not crazy.)

Agent Washington has nightmares because he’s not a kid. Because being able to cope with the waking world wont stop his dreams. The memories, the guilt, the things that never happened.

They didn’t say anything, before. Nightmares- his nightmares- left unaddressed. (They knew, they didn’t care, they didn’t want to _deal with it._ )

They don’t _ask._ It’s not left unaddressed, anyway. They don’t ask, but they’re there. They must see. He doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything. But Caboose is there with more stories. Carolina and Tucker are there with help- for many things. Donut and Doc with varying levels of understanding for the reasons. Grif and Kai with distraction. Simmons, Sarge, and Lopez are _there_ , too.

Wash has nightmares. (Still, forever, again and again.) But dreams are temporary, and the waking world continues. Because he’s still alive, still here. (“I wont ask you to take care of them, because I know you will. So take care of yourself, okay?”)

Wash has nightmares, but that’s fine.

The waking world continues.


End file.
